


Shattered Windshields || James "Bucky" Barnes X Reader

by midnighteclipse



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, F/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6921880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnighteclipse/pseuds/midnighteclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To put it simply, Bucky was lost.<br/>He didn't know who he was, where he was from, and barely understood the images constantly flashing through his mind.<br/>Yet he found that he was drawn to this town. It was quiet and practically in the middle of nowhere. Definitely not a place for a trained assassin, but for some reason he couldn't quite comprehend, this place felt familiar.</p><p>He felt the air leave his lungs when his eyes landed on her face. He'd seen her before. Where?<br/>Her eyes met his and crinkled around the corners as she smiled politely before making her way to another aisle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Familiar Face

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had this idea for quite a while now and I finally decided to post it. This will be a multi-chapter fic and will focus on Bucky recovering his memories and discovering the things he's done. Somehow the reader find herself dragged into the mix.  
> I hope you guys'll like it and please don't hesitate to leave a comment if you do. :)

To put it simply, Bucky was lost.

 

He didn't know who he was, where he was from, and barely understood the images constantly flashing through his mind.

 

Yet he found that he was drawn to this town. It was quiet and practically in the middle of nowhere. Definitely not a place for a trained assassin, but for some reason he couldn't quite comprehend, this place felt familiar.

 

His eyes darted about, constantly taking in his surroundings. It was second nature, searching for threats, devising escape routes. Some part of him felt grateful for it. With HYDRA scrambling to reassemble itself and its weapons they'd give anything to get a hold of him again. If he let his guard down for just a second he could be captured himself, lose himself and become once again the Winter Soldier.

 

He couldn't afford that. He couldn't afford to be unmade and rebuilt into a weapon.

 

Bucky took a deep breath. He couldn't keep thinking like that. If he dwelled too much on the negative he'd slip through the cracks of his fractured mind.

 

Bucky was startled by the sudden sound of his stomach growling. How long had it been since he'd last eaten? Days? Weeks? Too long to remember, that was for sure.

 

He dug his hand into his pocket, taking out a wad of crumpled up ones. If there were a deli or corner store nearby he'd probably have enough for a sandwich, maybe even a coffee.

 

Spotting one by chance, he quickly marched into the corner store and asked for the much desired food. Just as he was about to finish his transaction, the doorbell chimed, catching his attention.

 

He felt the air leave his lungs when his eyes landed on her face. He'd seen her before. Where?

 

Her eyes met his and crinkled around the corners as she smiled politely before making her way to another aisle.

 

“Hey, pal. That'll be seven bucks.”

 

Bucky shook himself out of his stupor and paid for his food before heading out the store. As he ate his breakfast/lunch/dinner, he had run out of money for any more food later, on a nearby bench he watched as the woman left the store, several plastic bags in hand.

 

He  _ knew  _ her. He was sure of it and he was hellbent on figuring out how.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky decides to officially meet you.

You sighed loudly as you finally entered your apartment, groceries in hand. You kicked off your shoes and padded over to the kitchen to put away your food.

 

Closing the door to your fridge, your peered at the stove top clock. 1:38. Still plenty of time to goof around on the internet before lounging out on your couch with some chips and Netflix. Ah, the wonders of a Saturday.

 

You hummed to yourself as you made your way to your bedroom where your precious laptop awaited you. You would have to answer a couple of emails from work before actually being able to have some fun. As you did just that, you let your mind go over your day.

 

There was a new guy in town, the one in the corner store. He seemed… odd. But then so were you. Everyone was a bit odd in their own way. Most people just know how to conceal it.

 

To you it seemed like he tried to conceal too much. But you didn’t know this guy. It wasn't safe to make assumptions. Especially if he decided to move to town. That would just be awkward.

 

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

 

You furrowed your brow as you sat up from your bed. You weren't expecting anyone over.

 

“Stanley must have gotten my mail again,” you muttered as you made your way over to your front door.

 

You raked your fingers through your hair as you made to open the door. “Sorry for the mix up Stan, I'll tell the postman to-- oh.”

  


Bucky had decided to follow you. He wasn't sure what he was going to say or how he was supposed to introduce himself . He wasn't even sure if this was a good idea. But the nagging sensation in the back of his head urged him forwards as you entered your apartment building.

 

He got a glimpse of your keys, apartment 27. When he entered the building his eyes scanned the names on the mailboxes until they landed on yours.

 

______ _______. Your first name meant nothing to him, but your last name struck a chord that he could only describe as familiarity. He must have known someone connected to you, a relative perhaps. It was the only explanation.

 

Taking a steadying breath and shouldering his backpack, he took the stairs up to the second floor. He stuck his left hand in his pocket as he walked up to your door.

 

He stared at your door, gaze intense as if he wanted to will the answers out of it. Swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath in and out, he raised his fist to your door and knocked three times. A shuffling noise was heard from behind the door, then approaching footsteps, then a voice.

 

“Sorry for the mix up, Stan, I'll tell the postman to-- oh.”

 

The door opened revealing you to him. You faltered, pulling your hand out from your hair.

 

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

 

Bucky shook his head, trying his hand at a smile. The last thing he needed was for you to perceive him as a threat. “S’okay.”

 

“You’re the guy from earlier, right? Do you need anything?”

 

Bucky furrowed his eyebrow. “You don’t recognize me?”

 

You frowned back, biting your lip and lifting a brow. “Uh,not before today, no... should I?”

 

Bucky clenched his jaw and his left hand was quick to fist itself in his pocket. That couldn’t be right. You had to know something. You had to be connected to his past somehow. But then, he could just be projecting, his desperate mind just wanting to find some semblance of sense in this unfamiliar world he now found himself in.

 

“Uh, guy? You okay there, pal?”

 

Bucky blinked, suddenly remembering he was still at your doorstep. He mumbled an apology and turned away from your door, ready to get the hell out of this building and recollect his thoughts, try to make sense of everything he was feeling and couldn’t yet comprehend.

 

“H-hold on!” You called out, grabbing the sleeve of his left arm. He stiffened and you quickly retracted your hand from his jacket. “Sorry! It’s just you’re obviously new to town, and from the look of your bag there you’re probably planning on staying a while, right? There’s a motel a couple blocks down from here on Main Street. If you need a place to stay, that is.”

 

Bucky spared you a glance before nodding stiffly and continuing on his way. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem.”

  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to find answers.

Having no money and no place to stay, Bucky found himself having to sleep on a bench at a nearby park. As far as park benches went, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was concrete which he was surprisingly grateful for. Wooden benches could hardly carry his weight what with his metal arm and those that did creaked far too much as he shifted in his sleep. But concrete was sturdy and far more reliable than flimsy pieces of plywood coated in chipping green paint.

 

As he lay on the admittedly small bench and stared up at the night sky, backpack safely tucked beneath his head, he thought over the day’s events. After having gone to your apartment he had decided to check out the motel you had mentioned. He decided not to go in, too many cameras. The last thing he needed was for someone to find him through facial recognition.

 

Speaking of facial recognition, he still couldn’t figure out how you didn’t know him. He was sure he knew you somehow and most likely through Hydra. If that were true and you had been somehow involved with his past… occupation, then you most definitely would have recognized him.

 

_ Unless I was wearing that damned mask. _

 

Bucky sighed heavily, dragging his right hand down his face. He  _ needed  _ to find out what you were to him. What made you so special that he was willing to risk his own security and confront you?

 

_ Shit, _ he stood up and slung his pack around his shoulders.  _ I’m going to regret this. _

  
  


Getting into your apartment was easy. Decades of training as an assassin had made him light on his feet and skilled at jimmying open locked windows. He almost felt guilty, having the ability to go in and out of your apartment as he pleased without raising any suspicion. Almost. He still needed to know how he knew you.

 

He currently found himself in your living room, scanning the rows of framed photographs on the mantel. He froze at the sight of a younger you smiling beside a man and woman. Your parents he assumed. 

 

_ Him,  _ he grabbed the frame and held it to the moonlight streaming through the window he came in.  _ I know him. _

 

The man’s resemblance to you was unsettling. The two of you had the same smile, but you had your mother’s eyes.  _ I know her too. How do I know her? _

 

A shuffle in a nearby room, your room, snapped him out of his thoughts. He reluctantly set down the frame where he found it and slipped out the window. He let himself fall down and landed soundlessly on the ground. He stood up, gripping one of his backpacks straps in his left hand. 

 

Bucky huffed as he walked out the alleyway beside your apartment building. He was positive now that he knew your family, but now all he had were more questions. If he wanted the answers he’d have to stay much longer than he had intended. He’d have to know you and gain your trust if he was to get any information out of you. But that would come with its risks.

 

He raked his fingers through his hair. This would have been a lot easier if he didn’t have a conscience. Back then if anyone looked at him the wrong way or suspected who he was all he had to do was cross them off. He had to be more cautious now.

 

_ This is ridiculous… you’re risking your freedom because of some girl. She probably doesn’t even have anything to do with you. You’re projecting. _

 

Was he?

 

He hated this. The uncertainty that was his existence. He didn’t know who he was or what he did before the man on the bridge. Yes he had gone to that museum and yes he had read everything he could find about Steve and himself, but it wasn’t enough. James Buchanan Barnes had died in 1945, that was nearly seventy years ago. That gap in his memory was immense, sure there were fragments, glimpses of the terrible things he had done but he didn’t want that.

 

He wanted to know who he was before this. What he was supposed to be now. And he wasn’t going to get that from a couple of documentaries and a brief biography on a wall. If he wanted to discover who he was and what he was to do past this, he needed whatever information you had.

 

He needed to know why those photos. Those two people and you were so damn important.

  
_But first thing’s first. You need a place to stay. Which means you need money. Which means… you need to get a job._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to leave a comment~ It motivates me to keep writing.


End file.
